


The Room

by Val_Creative



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adults, Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon, Beta/Omega, Comfort No Hurt, Domestic, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hunk (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Minor Hunk/Shiro (Voltron), Minor Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Multi, Romantic Friendship, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 11:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18093737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Eventually, Hunk accepts his role as a gentler Alpha — because his friends need him.





	The Room

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the lovely [artwork](https://squishylotus.tumblr.com/tagged/mess-hunk-up) for my fic by squishylotus!
> 
> If you took a moment to read this, especially if you kudoed or bookmarked, please leave a nice word or two.

 

*

Nobody in his family had ever been Alpha, for generations and generations.

In a way, Hunk thinks it's better he actively sought out his own beliefs about how to go about it.

Typically, he's only seen Alphas who were possessive and mean… _scary_. Alphas inherently desired all of the control with their partners and exhumed sexual dominance and aggression and power imbalances, and Hunk… doesn't want any of those things in his life. Besides, it would be too much stress and pressure to devote himself entirely to a full-time, needy Omega. And who would want to _hurt_ someone they loved?

When he's accepted into the Galaxy Garrison, the military running it supplies him with anti-hormones and the strongest known rut suppressors they can afford. Hunk gladly accepts.

Lance and Pidge are assigned the heat suppressors around the same time. At one point, Hunk and Pidge accidentally mix up their color-coded bags ( _yellow_ for Alphas and _green_ for Omegas, along with brilliant _blue_ for Omegas who didn't have internal child-bearing organs, like Lance) during their first week in the team-building meetings, flabbergasted and turning a deep, reddening color.

They all have a good, embarrassed laugh about it.

(Hunk doesn't realize until much later that Pidge's and Lance's colors _meant_ something different. He wonders why the Garrison never bothered to follow up on them.)

The long, droning hours of educational classes and Iverson's training-simulators usually kept Hunk from thinking about the fact he's an Alpha, minus when it's time to take his pills — and it seems like the militia-run Garrison itself wants him and everybody else to _forget_ too.

Everybody has be judged on their skill-set and ambition and how well they obey orders from their superiors and take commands, not by their fertility or bearing status.

But sometimes, Hunk gets the faintest whiff of a deep, claiming Omega-heat, drifting just beneath the topmost layer of Lance's skin, making his abdomen and groin _clench_.

(It's awful how quickly he gets aroused, Hunk's balls getting stiff and heavy.)

He barely remembers it for a while, or can focus on anything but Voltron and saving the universe. They haven't seen the planet Earth or talked to other humans in several years. They're older.

The digital, bleeping noises of Mercury Gameflux Two fade drastically into the background, while Hunk sits on Lance's paladin-bedroom floor, reclining and his palms flattened. He's suddenly lightheaded by an intense, _sweet_ odor, filling his nostrils when Pidge groans out lowly, dropping her head onto Hunk's shoulder and nuzzles him, abandoning her game-controller in the middle of their race.

He jumps, bemused and wide-eyed, when Pidge's fingers crawl willfully into his lap, reaching for Hunk's cock and firmly grasping it through his baggy tan pants.

Her eyes are _dark_ and slow-blinking out the haze. Lance tries to pull her onto her feet, sweating heavily and panting, nodding to Hunk. Lance's blue eyes are a kind of glossy-bright that Hunk has never experienced before. He — both of them, _Omegas —_ are so lovely and warm-scented like fresh, sun-baked honey drizzling on strawberries.

(There's no more suppressors of _any_ kind.)

*

Eventually, Hunk accepts his role as a gentler Alpha — because his friends need him.

The darkness of the private, multi-spacial room feels comforting. Hunk deems it _The Room_. Allura introduces the paladins to it when the Omega-cycles become noticeable and desperate, helping the process of redecorating. She and Coran finish the walls and floors with a special, spongy-mattress texture and fill every available space with extra-soft pillows and blankets.

He can witness Lance's easygoing, broad smile in the dim, Altean-blue lighting. How he moans out quietly, shuddering when Hunk's massive, throbbing knot buried inside him deflates without warning, jetting more hot, thick Alpha-cum into Lance's channel, oozing out of him.

Maybe it's silly to admit, but Hunk wants to capture this man against his lips, to hold Lance tighter and absorb every delightful sensation. To fall in love, not _lust_.

A too slow drag of flesh, and Hunk tugs himself out of Lance's fluid-slick rim, groaning above him. He feels exhausted and cum-slimy where Lance's Omega-cock pulsed the ropey, white spunk onto Hunk's stomach and his chest, glistening obviously against dark brown and hairy skin.

One of Lance's hands drags over Hunk's nape, pulling him down for a brief, timid kiss. Lance doesn't do that very often, Hunk supposes blissfully. They're not really _kissing_ friends while in The Room or outside it, but they should be. He lets out a pleased, rumbling note, snuffling Lance's neck and chuckling breathlessly at the playful, _hard_ nip.

"… Damn, that was good," Lance mumbles underneath him, those Heat- _bright_ eyes staring up and lidding. His knees press encouragingly against Hunk's bare, heaving sides.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Less… feel _less_ fucked up… like earlier it was…" Lance's voice slurs and oscillates, when he tries to stretch his back while lying backwards, raising his hands above his head and crossing his wrists. "How can you cum so much, dude? Or so hard…?" Lance asks, almost nonchalantly, but a familiar shit-eating grin. "I'm gonna get pregnant one of these days…"

Hunk straightens up, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

"Lance, you can't get pregnant," he reminds him. "It's not possible."

Despite his semi-exasperation, Hunk watches attentively as his partner only grins harder, bringing his hands down and grabbing Hunk's fingers, lifting, tangling their hands.

Lance presses all of their fingertips and palms up against his own muscular, cum-smeared tummy, rubbing softly. "So you're telling me you _wouldn't_ wanna see me with a big belly full of your baby…?" Lance whispers monotonously, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

He knows it's just foreplay talk according to Lance, to tease and torment before they go another round, but god, Hunk hasn't felt the urge to lose restraint so fast before.

(It's not gonna happen. No matter what the _Alpha_ in Hunk wants.)

His fingers smooth over Lance's warm, brown skin. Hunk leans over and tremble-exhales, pushing their foreheads together, listening to the other man keening. "That would be incredible," Hunk admits, caressing his nose to Lance's right cheek. "Still not possible…"

"Kay-kay could."

Hearing Lance's affectionate nickname for their partner softens Hunk's features.

"Yeah, okay, but Pidge doesn't want a baby.…"

"Ss'not what she said last night," Lance points out, making a gruff, dismissive noise when Hunk pulls out of another opportunity for kiss-contact, shaking his head and rolling off him.

Maybe Lance doesn't remember in full clarity, but they said _a lot_ during a two hour-long session, with a red-faced, naked Pidge writhing between them, Lance's Omega-cock deeply seated inside her ass and Hunk gently fucking her cum-sloppy, sore entrance until he locked.

Lance sighs at Hunk's dubious look, wiping his face.

"Well… it's not like being in the throes of a Heat takes away your consent, right?"

"But it _does_ mess with your head," Hunk replies, squatting awkwardly to massage a leg-muscle twinging. He's about to stand up and walk off the cramping when they hear Pidge inhaling sharply and stirring in a mound of colorless, downy blankets, moving around restlessly.

At the whimper, Lance pulls off the blankets and cradles Pidge against his front, while Hunk scoots closer, resting a hand against her muscle-flat, narrow waist. "She doing okay?" Hunk questions after a moment, observing as Lance buries his face into her soft, auburn hair and shushes Pidge's drowsy, whimpering sounds under his breath, petting her back rhythmically.

She settles down when Lance frees up one of his hands, nudging two fingers between her thighs and plunging into the thickened, gooey mess of Omega-cum and Alpha-cum dribbling out of her, fingering her, thrusting as _deep_ as Lance's fingers can get, holding himself inside.

"Where are you going?" he hisses out incredulously, as Hunk yanks on his long, yellow shirt.

"What, Lance? I gotta check on Keith."

At the mention of their Omega teammate not present in The Room, Lance's mouth scrunches into a genuine but half-assed frown. "Keith, _smeith_ , man. Stay here."

"You and Pidge are on an interval before the next Heat-session comes, yeah? It'll be another varga or possibly more before you need me again. I already know he's gonna need help right now since Keith has been by himself all night—so just take care of her while I'm gone, okay?"

There's no further argument, but Hunk turns his head back around when Lance solemnly murmurs out Hunk's name, trying to get him to meet their eyes.

"I know you hate doing the whole thing but… you're a really _good_ Alpha, Hunk." A current of warmth, edged by fondness and appreciation rides up Hunk's gut. "The best one there ever was," Lance adds, breathing out a smiling, rosy-feeling laugh. "And you're my best friend… so there's that."

Hunk shifts in, pressing his lips over Lance's jaw. "Mine too," he whispers, smiling back, gazing over Pidge dutifully and kissing her earlobe. "Both of you."

(And he can't conceptualize a more meaningful truth than this.)

*

_"Be back."_

Getting cleaned up takes minimal effort since Hunk knows he'll just need to do it all over again, but washes off his torso and hips and all of the dried, heavy cum off the length of his chest.

Down the hallway, Hunk instantly senses the piercing, heightened quality of Omega-Heat wafting in. He pauses, collecting himself in long, deep breaths, before entering Keith's bedroom. Everything seems to be fluorescent-white lit. Keith lies on his own bed. He's only wearing his short, black tee wrinkled up to his pectorals, and those matching black fingerless gloves.

Keith's skin on his abdomen, on his face and his legs, is damp and pale-flushed. Gloved hands cover against his nose and eyes harshly. There's whining noises.

He doesn't move from lying on his back, or acknowledge him when Hunk steps closer, grasping onto the top of Keith's knees with a comforting weight and shifting them further apart to examine him. Keith's hole leaks freely, all of that _warm_ and sweetly-scented fluid gleaming on the sheets below and on Hunk's knuckles pushing past his deep pink, hairless rim, stroking in.

Hunk turns around to slip off his things when he bumps nose-first into Shiro's broad chest. "Holy crow!" Hunk breathes out, placing a hand over his heart and awkwardly stumbling sideways.

The older man grabs his shoulders, laughing. "Whoa! You okay? Did I startle you?"

"Um…" Hunk glances down at his loosened belt and then Keith, flustered. "I was gonna, uh…"

Shiro nods understandingly, giving him a perfunctory kind of smile. There's no _Heat_ -scent off of Shiro asides from Keith's musky odor. He must have been with Keith this whole time. The benefits of being a Beta. "I've got this, don't worry," Shiro reassures him, patting Hunk's arm, squeezing. "Keith is used to going through his Heats alone. Or sometimes with me if I'm here."

" _Oh_ …"

Hunk finds himself squirming a little under Shiro's earnest gaze.

"You mind if I…?" he trails off, and Hunk isn't entirely sure _what_ Shiro means.

Not that it matters because Hunk feels Shiro's organic fingers sliding over Hunk's cheek as he bends forward, pressing his opened, chapped mouth against Hunk's lips, coaxing him into a slow-sly kiss. Hunk's eyes fly open when Shiro exhales into his mouth, suckling their tongues together.

It's over before he knows it — and Shiro is going down on his knees, carefully pulling Hunk's garrison-grey sweatpants to his lower thighs with a sturdy, calm focus.

He eases Hunk's now semi-erect cock free of the material, witnessing its moistened, bulging tip peeking out of the lump of dark brown foreskin. Shiro licks and mouths over it, using his Altean-titanium fingers to nudge behind Hunk's testes for a gland, pushing once, twice…

It's not coming, but Hunk knows there's at least a whole mouthful of pre-cum spurting right onto Shiro's molars and the roof of his mouth, engulfing his tongue in sticky, hot fluid.

" _Wh'rr you doing_ …?"

Dazedly, Hunk stares as the other man rises and climbs onto the bed, prying Keith's hand away from his face, pushing his fluid-dripping lips over Keith's mouth and waiting for him to respond. Keith thrashes and strains in Shiro's arms, moaning loudly, hungrily swallowing Hunk's pre-cum from Shiro's mouth and spilling onto his own wriggling, impatient tongue inside him.

They separate, with Keith gasping and shuddering against Shiro's vest, fisting into his clothes.

Shiro mumbles out little encouraging words, tenderly kissing the side of his feverishly-warm face, rubbing Keith's shoulder, _I'm right here, shh… I've got you, got you, Kee…_

Eventually, Keith's body goes lethargic and pleasantly relaxed, and he's not leaking all over the place. Shiro remains lying down, cuddling their Omega-partner against his front.

"How'd you know to do that?" Hunk asks quietly, amazed.

Shiro cradles his organic arm around Keith's head and grins, fondling his dark, sweaty hair. Keith burrows against Shiro's throat, half-groaning and inhaling deeply. "Long story…" Shiro explains, peering over to Hunk. "But this will help regulate Keith's urges for now…"

Betas really _can_ neutralize a Heat-cycle while an Alpha is present. Wow.

Hunk nods firmly when Shiro mouths out a _thank you_ and raises his eyebrows. He heads for the door, whirring it open, and closing it securely. They don't need him, Hunk supposes.

(But does anyone…?)

That darkens his mood long enough for Hunk to wander down towards the kitchens. Allura and Coran have been busy with upgrading the castleship's particle-beam, mindfully keeping out of the way. He doubts they _want_ to understand how a Heat works for the lesser human species.

By the kitchen island, a bespectacled and mildly irritated Pidge swats at Lance's hand attempting to straighten up a food-goo mountain piled on a bigger, chrome-looking plate. They're both wrapped up in velvety, pale blue Altean night-robes. Hunk doesn't smell a new Heat on either of them, and they argue softly to each other, dumping a bunch of space-sprinkles on the goo-dessert.

"Guys?"

Lance's head jerks up. "Hey!" he yells cheerfully, waving. "Pidge woke up after you left, man!"

"We, uh… wanted to make you something. Kinda." Pidge beams and gestures dramatically to the ruins of a monstrous, neon green blob, the same time as Lance does. And additionally to the iridescent space-sprinkles that smell like mangoes and sour chili-pepper.

Hunk's eyes fill up with tears. " _You guu~uys_ …" he cries out, rushing over to hug them, Pidge's gleeful, high-pitched laughter in his ear, and Lance's shaven cheek against Hunk's jaw.

This means everything.

*

 


End file.
